The 123 Incident and Macau as a backwater

All the way to the 123 Incident, international and Chinese commentators had frequently criticised Macau’s underdevelopment, impoverishment, and reliance on ‘vice’, especially gambling, drugs, prostitution, and smuggling.Footnote ² As such, the Portuguese were often viewed as lacking legitimacy to exercise sovereignty.Footnote ³ Historically, after a golden age in the sixteenth century, Macau had overall entered a decline that was further sealed with Hong Kong’s establishment in 1842.Footnote ⁴ Since then, many foreign observers had contrasted its decadence with the energetic British colony, attributing its decay to an incompetent Portuguese administration.Footnote ⁵ Macau’s image as a ‘sin city’ can also partially be traced to Hong Kong taking over its legitimate trade.Footnote ⁶ Consequently, Macau in the 1850s had turned to morally dubious activities such as the coolie traffic (circa 1850s–1870s), gambling (1849), and smuggling for survival. While the ‘vice economy’ had been largely run by Chinese, the colonial government had benefited by farming out monopolies and receiving rents and taxes.Footnote ⁷

The long-held censure of Macau by Western authors continued into the 1960s. For instance, in 1962 British biologist and Hong Kong resident Frank Ommaney lamented Macau’s decay, while writing that it ‘lives … by means of illicit traffic of different sorts’.Footnote ⁸ Extreme destitution also figures prominently in Chinese residents’ memories of the 1960s, as evidenced by Li Xiaozhi’s oral history interviews about the 123 Incident.Footnote ⁹ Many perceived the Portuguese administration as corrupt, inefficient, and indifferent to the plight of poor Chinese, offering little support or opportunity for advancement.Footnote ¹⁰ This contradicted official Portuguese claims of providing social assistance, especially to Chinese residents and refugees. Although a development boom had begun in the early 1960s, driven by the new gambling monopoly Sociedade de Turismo e Diversões de Macau (STDM) led by Stanley Ho and Hong Kong Chinese investors, Macau remained underdeveloped, with minimal government infrastructure and industrial capacity. Li’s interviews also reveal widespread resentment towards mid- and lower-level ranks of the Portuguese administration, who bullied working-class Chinese.Footnote ¹¹

Clayton and Lam as well as Li have argued that these conditions significantly contributed to the 123 Incident’s outbreak. The 1966–1967 unrest triggered a major crisis with far-reaching repercussions. In November 1966, police confronted a leftist association on Taipa Island that was constructing a school without a permit—despite having applied months earlier—its intervention resulting in injuries. The incident sparked a wave of demands and Cultural Revolution-style protests, with demonstrators chanting Maoist slogans and carrying Mao’s Little Red Book.Footnote ¹² Protests culminated during the 3 December riot, when thousands ‘clashed with police and attacked Portuguese buildings and symbols’.Footnote ¹³ The official account was that eight Chinese were killed, with hundreds wounded.Footnote ¹⁴ Martial law was imposed on that day. Meanwhile, Red Guards gathered near the border, and People’s Liberation Army (PLA) boats circled Macau’s waters.

Clayton and Lam have argued that the riots were not merely a ‘spillover’ from China’s Cultural Revolution but stemmed from deep-rooted anti-Portuguese sentiment over corruption, racism, and irrational colonial policies. Li also suggests that protesters initially adopted Cultural Revolution-rhetoric strategically to gain the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) support and bolster their chances of success. As the unrest escalated, new demands emerged from other actors with varied agendas, such as the Guangdong Foreign Office—likely representing Beijing—which called for an end to all Kuomintang (KMT) or Taiwan-based government activity in Macau while seeking to undermine Portuguese authority and legitimacy.Footnote ¹⁵ Macau had largely served as a KMT sanctuary, with agents launching sabotage operations into China, despite the latter’s protests. This occurred to a larger extent than in Hong Kong due to the more porous borders and laxer control.Footnote ¹⁶ There the British maintained tighter control and enforced political neutrality by curbing both pro-China and pro-Taiwan factions.Footnote ¹⁷

During the riots, numerous alarming articles surfaced in the international media, and Chinese-language newspapers published particularly virulent reports.Footnote ¹⁸ The leftist Aomen ribao denounced a history of Portuguese violence in Macau and highlighted the repression in Portuguese African territories, where colonial wars had been ongoing since 1961.Footnote ¹⁹ Such reports linked the riots to happenings occurring elsewhere in the Portuguese empire, condemning Portuguese colonialism across time and space. This constituted further pressure and bad press for the Portuguese, who were already battling international hostility for their colonial policies, including at the United Nations (UN).Footnote ²⁰

The situation in Macau seemed so dire that the Portuguese administration had considered abandoning it.Footnote ²¹ This was very worrisome not only locally but also for the regime at a time when preserving the integrity of the empire or ‘overseas provinces’ was a top priority. Yet, contrary to expectations, the Portuguese authorities would eventually discover that China did not aim to recover Macau but rather to dictate local policies.Footnote ²² Despite claiming sovereignty, China made use of Macau and Hong Kong to serve its interests under the ‘long-term planning and full utilisation’ policy while delaying retrocession.Footnote ²³ Macau was particularly valuable as a place for China to circumvent the UN embargo that prohibited the West from trading with it following its participation in the Korean War.

The Portuguese finally capitulated by signing a document on 29 January 1967 at the Chinese Chamber of Commerce under Mao Zedong’s portrait.Footnote ²⁴ Until then, they had resisted its language, which hurt national dignity.Footnote ²⁵ The Portuguese accepted all demands, taking full responsibility and apologising to Macau’s Chinese population, while closing all organisations linked to the KMT.Footnote ²⁶ The agreement also mandated returning refugees to China.Footnote ²⁷ This was downplayed in the Portuguese press and contradicted the discourse of Macau as a refuge, which had been prominent in the previous decades.Footnote ²⁸ Nevertheless, the unrest did not end, rather the tension and demonstrations persisted,Footnote ²⁹ the incident casting a long shadow over the subsequent years.

Although the 123 Incident did mark a turning point for Macau, it primarily represented ‘an intensification of the Macau administration’s long-standing policy of compromise with’ China.Footnote ³⁰ Nonetheless, it dealt a severe blow to Portuguese sovereignty, causing face-loss, disruption, and trauma for the Portuguese administration and population. While Portuguese legitimacy further waned, identification with the PRC increased among the Chinese population.Footnote ³¹ Beginning then, ‘effective control over [Macau] would be exercised by’ China,Footnote ³² its great influence persisting until the handover (and beyond).

That China had become the real ruler was understood and reported by the international media. This constituted a new setback in Portuguese efforts to preserve its empire and convince the international community of its coherence. In 1951, the regime had rebranded its colonies as overseas provinces, thereby making them an integral part of the nation to avert the post-war decolonisation trend.Footnote ³³ Foreign reports about the incident, even years later, unfailingly highlighted that Portugal had lost sovereignty, with China effectively ruling ‘behind a Portuguese front’.Footnote ³⁴ These reports noted that the ‘Portuguese were … willing to pay any price to keep their presence in Macau. Another Goa … [which India had forcefully annexed in 1961] … would feed agitation for independence in Portuguese provinces in Africa’.Footnote ³⁵ The regime now feared the Macau unrest, and its potential loss ‘could affect the moral of armed forces fighting’ in Africa and would have repercussions across the empire.Footnote ³⁶

Following the outbreak of the 1967 riots in Hong Kong, themselves inspired by the Macau unrest, as highlighted in the international press,Footnote ³⁷ Macau experienced a resurgence of Cultural Revolution-style demonstrations against British and American imperialism. Reports painted Macau as unsafe due to communist control and the Portuguese administration powerless and afraid to intervene.Footnote ³⁸ In fact, for two years after the 123 Incident, the Portuguese essentially ceased policing to avoid upsetting China and local Maoists.Footnote ³⁹ As chaos escalated, leftist associations stepped in to restore some order, so Macau was thus referred to as a ‘half liberated area’.Footnote ⁴⁰ Numerous reports detailed the harassment of the British Consul and the consulate being under ‘siege’.Footnote ⁴¹ Yet, as the press reported, the Portuguese did not intervene, despite Portugal and Britain being allies.Footnote ⁴² The British Consulate ultimately closed, and British officials were restricted from visiting Macau until 1969, while avoiding direct relations until 1972, which caused much anxiety for the Portuguese.Footnote ⁴³

The British management of the Hong Kong riots, however, sharply contrasted with that of the Portuguese. In fact, Macau served as a model of what not to do.Footnote ⁴⁴ Sparked by an industrial dispute and inspired by the Macau riots, Hong Kong’s unrest led to demonstrations and a wave of bomb attacks, but this subsided by the end of 1967, thanks to decisive British action and local Chinese support.Footnote ⁴⁵ Unlike the Portuguese, the British enacted emergency legislation that restricted leftist inflammatory propaganda.Footnote ⁴⁶ Furthermore, they banned some pro-communist papers, arresting their publishers, which softened that press.Footnote ⁴⁷ The British also effectively deployed the police and military.Footnote ⁴⁸ In Macau, however, there was more genuine support for the riots and China’s stronger intervention.Footnote ⁴⁹ Although China initially backed Hong Kong’s leftists, this support faded likely due to British resolve and a replacement of radicals by moderates in Beijing.Footnote ⁵⁰ As mentioned, the British administration partly blamed Portuguese capitulation for causing the riots since they had been encouraged by leftist success there.Footnote ⁵¹ They were determined not to reproduce the Portuguese humiliating submission and concessions to the communists.Footnote ⁵² British success in suppressing the riots was generally applauded by the international press and contrasted with the Portuguese fiasco. Again, reports highlighted that the Portuguese were less capable of ruling their territory than the British were theirs.Footnote ⁵³ These were, evidently, very detrimental to the image of the Portuguese.

While the Hong Kong unrest was more swiftly resolved and ushered a period of reform, it was only in August 1968 that China ‘sent an envoy to Macau to urge local communists to quell their activism and allow Macau’s political and economic situation to return to normal’.Footnote ⁵⁴ As Western newspapers noted, recovery was slow in 1967/1968, and residents felt pessimistic,Footnote ⁵⁵ it was only in 1969 that it began kicking off. Yet, international newspapers then still wrote of Macau as plagued by Cultural Revolution-style demonstrations, with anti-Western, Maoist slogans and PRC flags prevalent, despite Portugal being ‘one of the most anti-communist of countries’ and signs of communism being outlawed there, as The New York Times (TNYT) ironically underlined.Footnote ⁵⁶ A National Geographic article illustrated this with a picture of demonstrators carrying Mao Zedong banners.Footnote ⁵⁷ Well into the 1970s, coverage continued to underline Portuguese submissiveness to China and local Maoists. A Guardian article quoted a diplomat in Hong Kong who confided that since the riots the ‘Portuguese make no major move before checking with the communists first’.Footnote ⁵⁸ He noted that (unlike in Hong Kong) Macau Chinese-language communist papers operated uncensored, while non-communist ones were afraid to run editorials. China’s envoy had cautioned the governor, through Ho Yin, the pro-PRC community leader who acted as the principal intermediary between China and the Portuguese as they did not have diplomatic relations, that (unlike in Hong Kong) the Portuguese should refrain from interfering in Macau’s communist activities.Footnote ⁵⁹

The Portuguese response: ‘the miracle of development’, the good neighbourhood policy, and coexistence

Remedying the image-damage caused by the 123 Incident became imperative for the Portuguese administration and regime. On the one hand, there was an attempt to censor international negative news in Macau and Portugal, although Chinese-language reports became untouchable. On the other, the Portuguese endeavoured to advocate counter-narratives. The incident’s reporting became a taboo topic in the Portuguese press, except for the occasional sanitised official communication.Footnote ⁶⁰ Throughout the period, Governor Nobre de Carvalho and the Portuguese press protested against the Western media for its detrimental reports which affected Macau’s image, and for spreading rumours about the riots and their aftermath. In several speeches, the governor remonstrated against the bad faith revealed by external interests, including the international media, whom he accused of using the riots and subsequent troubles to harm Macau.Footnote ⁶¹ The then overseas minister, Silva Cunha, later confided that ‘what the foreign press wrote further aggravated our difficulties’.Footnote ⁶² Offending journalists were barred from Macau; for instance, in late December 1966, David Bonavia, a Hong Kong-based correspondent to the Far Eastern Economic Review and The Times, was prohibited to enter Macau for stating that the Portuguese administration’s inefficiency had caused the riots.Footnote ⁶³ Portuguese journalists or officials directly responded to offending articles. In a 1970 article reprinted in the Notícias de Macau (NdM), Dutra Faria, an influential journalist and the head of ANI (Agency of News and Information) in Lisbon, criticised an Australian journalist for characterising a trip to Macau as dangerous.Footnote ⁶⁴ He argued that, although there had been a moment of crisis because of the riots, it was understandable since ‘it is never handy to live across from a dynamic revolution in progress, naturally there will always be some friction in those relations, but they are becoming rarer … due to the [inter-ethnic] comprehension in Macau, which is a peculiar case in the world (we can even say unique), and despite this not being to the liking of the Australian journalist and other journalists of easy sensationalism’.Footnote ⁶⁵ In another article, Faria sternly responded to a comment from an English newspaper about the riots which had questioned what use Macau had.Footnote ⁶⁶ Faria answered that its use was an ‘intense message of human solidarity and love for the other … whatever their origin, color or race’ and praised the many examples of social assistance in Macau.Footnote ⁶⁷ Hence, Portuguese propaganda presented Macau as a valuable model of interracial harmony and the interethnic conflict as an aberration (i.e. the result of excessive revolutionary zeal spilled from across the border).

In 1971 the former overseas minister, Sarmento Rodrigues, read a paper at a conference in Lisbon, which soon after was printed in NdM and in 1973 in Permanência. Probably also in reference to foreign reports about the riots, he protested against the ‘sick and malevolent campaigns against Macau, sensationalist and without scruples’, and that it was ‘necessary to demonstrate that Macau was a model of the most honorable Portuguese virtues’.Footnote ⁶⁸ He underlined that Macau was obviously a site of tolerance given that Chinese were treated like Portuguese.Footnote ⁶⁹ He pointed out the liberties they enjoyed in terms of religious and associative freedom, and the fact that they held a seat at both the Legislative and Municipal Councils, and the lack of discrimination towards them.Footnote ⁷⁰ For him, Macau was above all a ‘symbol of peace and fraternity’ and ‘harmonious coexistence’.Footnote ⁷¹ Hence, his article similarly aimed to present Macau as a site of political, religious, and racial coexistence and contradict the notion of interethnic tension, which Chinese publications had emphasised. For instance, in September 1967, the Aomen ribao had published an inflammatory trilingual (Chinese, Portuguese, and English) booklet entitled Opposing the Sanguinary Atrocities Perpetrated by the Portuguese Imperialists in Macau, which had given a distorted account of the events while including graphic images of the wounded and dead, as well as of the protests.

To counteract negative reports, António Nolasco da Silva, head of the Centre of Information and Tourism (CIT), the institution in charge of propaganda in Macau, had in an August 1967 press conference (soon after the incident) urged the press to collaborate in creating ‘a climate of trust and optimism’ and the foreign media to spread news of vitality.Footnote ⁷² The governor did likewise in several speeches until the Carnation Revolution. Furthermore, the Portuguese administration and the local Portuguese press, which largely followed its directions, sought to not only shift the focus to a sense of normalcy, but, in the following years to increasingly emphasise ever-growing levels of development and economic growth that centred on modernisation, urbanisation, industrialisation, commerce, tourism, and infrastructural projects supposed to benefit Macau, including its largely Chinese population, as well as social progress and trust in the future.Footnote ⁷³ The government took much credit for ushering a phase of development in Macau. The press and the governor referred to the government’s role as ‘orienting, coordinating, and stimulating’ development;Footnote ⁷⁴ that is, creating the basic infrastructures that expanded industry and tourism, developing means of communications and roads, improving the production of energy (in fact very faulty) and the water supply, and incentivising private enterprises, by providing support with foreign markets.Footnote ⁷⁵ This aimed to counteract Western and Chinese perceptions that theirs was a backward and inefficient government undeserving of sovereignty and the deep-seated image of Macau as an unproductive ‘vice city’. As Li has explored in his oral history work, Macau’s Chinese population had complained about the Portuguese administration being inactive, disorganised, and lacking development plans, and about the territory being deficient in industry and commerce, hence lacking opportunities for personal advancement.Footnote ⁷⁶ There was therefore the need to promote not only the notion that Macau had completely recovered from the crisis but also that the Portuguese aimed to provide a good, fair, and efficient administration for all and made the utmost to deliver socio-economic development. The governor highlighted that his administration ‘had no other ambition than to better the moral and material lives of Macau’s people’.Footnote ⁷⁷ Regarding social development, the governor and the press especially put the spotlight on providing the poor with economic housing, in one of earth’s most densely populated spots, without looking at ethnicities or ideologiesFootnote ⁷⁸ or that the government preoccupied itself with workers’ conditions and salaries.Footnote ⁷⁹

After recovery began in the late 1960s, publications incessantly celebrated ‘the notable spurt of progress in Macau’.Footnote ⁸⁰ The Macau Portuguese press underlined that after the disturbance ‘Macau did not return to its routine but there are new industrial projects, as well as the incentivizing of tourism, social promotion and progress’,Footnote ⁸¹ and that ‘the standard of living is improving year by year’.Footnote ⁸² Some articles even hyperbolically proclaimed that after the incident ‘there was progress as never seen in Macau’s annals’,Footnote ⁸³ while the Macanese Armando Hagatong called it the ‘miracle of development’.Footnote ⁸⁴ Many publications then also called Macau ‘a city of progress’.Footnote ⁸⁵

The Portuguese administration expected that signs of development would stifle foreign criticism of its perceived incapacity to efficiently rule Macau. In the 1950s, there had been a project of developing the islands, Taipa and Coloane. A 1953 article published by the Economic Services, under which the Propaganda Section then functioned, had stated that the administration should make better use of the islands so that ‘the sweet humanitarians who only refer to Macau to discredit it, stop contesting our sovereignty rights’.Footnote ⁸⁶ The then governor, Marques Esparteiro, had protested that ‘Macau is malevolently pointed out as dedicated to improper activities … they ignore the ardour with which we develop our territories’.Footnote ⁸⁷ In his book Alguns problemas magnos de Macau: breve memória descritiva e justificativa (Some major problems of Macau: brief descriptive and justificatory memoir) (1952), cited again in 1968 by the Macau boletim de informação e turismo (MBIT), the governor had pointed out that the islands would finally be developed: ‘this will undo the criticisms directed at our administration, for maintaining them for such a long time in a state of relative underdevelopment’.Footnote ⁸⁸ These statements showed concern about the criticism that underdevelopment (including of the islands) and the dependency on the ‘vice economy’ generated and it being correlated to the Portuguese’s lack of legitimacy to rule Macau. But, overall, underdevelopment had defined the 1950s, a time of recession, partly due to the embargo, and back then Portuguese propaganda had not emphasised development as much. In the 1970s, when Macau was finally experiencing a boom of sorts, the governor, like previous officials, reiterated that progress was ‘the best answer for all those who strive … in harming the interests of this land and denigrating it’.Footnote ⁸⁹

Furthermore, in the post-123 period, in contrast to the many previous foreign descriptions of Macau as stuck in the past, it was instead described in the Portuguese print media as ‘conquering the future’.Footnote ⁹⁰ In a speech he made in a visit to Macau in 1970, the state subsecretary for overseas administration, Sacramento Monteiro, noted the high level of growth since his last visit and raved that ‘the future will be even better, with greater wealth, Macau is working with all enthusiasm towards a better future’.Footnote ⁹¹ A metropole-based journalist, Antonino Cacho, in his NdM column opined that ‘only the future counts, a future in which Chinese and Portuguese trust’.Footnote ⁹²

Most significantly, the authorities and the press stressed that development was largely due to Luso-Chinese collaboration and harmonious coexistence, which, they claimed, the government was constantly encouraging and solidifying in the post-123 period.Footnote ⁹³ These were described as the basic key conditions that had allowed progress to happen and also permitted people to quickly forget their grievances. For instance, CIT’s official publication proclaimed that ‘the surge in progress is due to a notable effort between the two laborious and orderly communities … that live fraternally, engaging in a dialogue between two distinct civilisations, without parallel in the world’.Footnote ⁹⁴ But official discourse also increasingly credited the Chinese population with the development of Macau, praising them for their initiative and high-quality work.Footnote ⁹⁵

From the 1960s, development became more substantial in both Macau and Portugal. This was due to factors such as the further integration of Portugal with the European Economic Community (EEC)Footnote ⁹⁶ and the Portuguese Economic Space, which further liberalised commerce between the metropole and the overseas provinces in 1961.Footnote ⁹⁷ This contributed to a boom in Macau’s industrialisation, particularly in the textile sector, which was driven by Chinese entrepreneurs.Footnote ⁹⁸ This surge increased exports, which further expanded in the 1970s.Footnote ⁹⁹ A short documentary about industrialisation in the 1970s focused on that. In 1972, new bank legislation was passed that allowed (foreign) banks to operate, giving support to industrial and commercial development and bringing an influx of investment capital.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ Previously only the Banco Nacional Ultramarino had been allowed.Footnote ¹⁰¹ The last film made in Macau before the Carnation Revolution was sponsored by a bank. A construction boom in the 1970s followed.Footnote ¹⁰²

But gambling and the tourism it fed were the cornerstones of Macau’s development. A major breakthrough was the establishment of STDM. It launched the modernisation of gambling with the introduction of Western-style games,Footnote ¹⁰³ which increased tourism. Crucially, the company paid higher taxes, and its contract with the government included the obligation to execute projects for Macau’s (tourist) development, urbanisation, and infrastructure. This included better communications with Hong Kong, a modern casino, and a luxury hotel.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ In various publications, tourism had already been highlighted as an important aspect of development, and Macau had been called a ‘land of tourism’.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ Along with providing a source of supposedly ‘clean’ revenue (despite its linkage to gambling), it was valued for its potential to give tourists a positive image of the territory as a peaceful and progressive place, as well as a site of coexistence, and hence dispel notions of Macau as a ‘sin city’. This aspect of tourism had been underscored since at least the post-war period. It had been frequently expressed that it was important for foreign tourists to experience Macau firsthand as this would dispel ‘the erroneous opinion about Macau in sectors of the foreign press’.Footnote ¹⁰⁶ An article pointed out: ‘For foreigners to be elucidated about our action, there is no better way than direct observation … [for them to see] the honesty of our administration … many tourists who have visited Macau have dismissed their [previous] bad impressions.’Footnote ¹⁰⁷ Tourists were seen as Macau’s ‘best ambassadors, and with their information they undo the rumours that certain sectors of the foreign press maliciously spread about Macau’.Footnote ¹⁰⁸ This became even more urgent after the incident and the subsequent news of disorder and insecurity, which official discourse blamed on ‘malevolent propaganda’ intended ‘to scare away tourists’.Footnote ¹⁰⁹

Crucially, Luso-Chinese coexistence was singled out as Macau’s most valuable tourist attraction. In the 1950s, reports had already stated that ethnic harmony was what captivated most tourists.Footnote ¹¹⁰ After the riots, NdM reminded readers that what most impressed tourists was ‘the understanding between the two communities’.Footnote ¹¹¹ It further commented that: ‘such an enviable situation is lacking in many parts of the world, where social convulsions succeed one another on a daily basis in a brotherly struggle of life and death’.Footnote ¹¹² Some of the documentaries also functioned as travelogues, introducing parts of Macau worth visiting, but most importantly, they aimed to show this supposed interracial harmony and coexistence. Thus, Luso-tropical-like rhetoric about interracial harmony was adopted in touristic propaganda.Footnote ¹¹³ According to Luso-tropicalism, first conceptualised by Brazilian historian Gilberto Freyre and appropriated by the regime in the post-war period to avert the pressures of decolonisation, the Portuguese had created a softer form of colonisation based on biological and cultural ‘miscegenation’, which engendered harmonious interracial relations and a hybrid civilisation.Footnote ¹¹⁴

Hence, during this period, official discourse further emphasised an ever-growing Luso-Chinese harmonious coexistence and its promotion by the government. A 1967 speech by the governor highlighted that ‘the good comprehension between Portuguese and Chinese make Macau a unique place in the world’.Footnote ¹¹⁵ The press often reiterated that ‘Macau has the kind of living that must serve as a paradigm for relations between people who are culturally and ethnically distinct … Macau is a principle that gives a different destiny to humanity’.Footnote ¹¹⁶ Publications also pointed out that harmony existed despite Macau’s high density and heterogeneity, whereas even ‘homogeneous societies explode with violent conflicts’.Footnote ¹¹⁷ Articles stated that it was stunning to have a successful Portuguese administration despite 97 per cent of the population being Chinese.Footnote ¹¹⁸ MBIT claimed that this harmony was a rule proven by only a few exceptions,Footnote ¹¹⁹ the riots being one of them.

However, other statements by the authorities reveal that it was well-known that the Portuguese administration’s treatment of the Chinese population had been far from exemplary nor was there a perfect coexistence. In a speech, the governor had urged the population to denounce less scrupulous members of the administration that gave it a bad image and frequently repeated that staff had to understand that services were created to serve the (largely Chinese) public, who had to be treated with courtesy.Footnote ¹²⁰ In another speech on the eve of the Carnation Revolution, he admonished that ‘cohesion between Portuguese and Chinese lacks being constantly reinforced; there is still much struggle in order for all to have a real understanding of the common good’.Footnote ¹²¹ Nevertheless, scholars have pointed out that the situation of (working-class) Chinese residents did, to some extent, improve after the 123 Incident.Footnote ¹²² They were treated with more respect and gained more rights and benefits, which had been their main objective in participating in the riots.Footnote ¹²³

Stress was now also increasingly placed on Macau’s ‘good neighbourhood policy’ towards China. In fact, the Portuguese, coerced into closing all KMT organisations and prohibiting their activities, while not interfering with communist ones, had from this point onwards been forced to embrace a good neighbourhood policy towards China. Prior to that, the authorities had been seen by some as favouring the KMT and protecting their activities in Macau,Footnote ¹²⁴ and China had long protested against that. In a 1967 speech at the Legislative Assembly, which was reprinted in various publications and became a leitmotif during his governorship, the governor emphasised that ‘peace, harmony, pacific coexistence, social and economic progress, and a good neighbourhood policy are the objectives we seek to guarantee’.Footnote ¹²⁵ He had already addressed the importance of the good neighbourhood policy in his speech at the inauguration of his administration in November 1966,Footnote ¹²⁶ which occurred after the protests had already begun. The governor emphasised that his administration would not allow actions that might disturb the good neighbourhood policy (i.e. sabotage actions in China carried out by Macau-based KMT agents). Because of these, the government had already ordered the KMT office to close in 1965. The governor proclaimed in speeches that Macau aimed to be useful to China in its modest capacity.Footnote ¹²⁷ Moreover, the press pointed out the centrality of this policy despite China aiding anti-Portuguese movements in Africa. This, it was claimed, did not affect Macau progressing in peace.Footnote ¹²⁸ Articles in 1971 pointed out that Macau’s example should serve as a model for President Nixon in the USA’s rapprochement with China, and that he would feel encouraged if he knew about it.Footnote ¹²⁹ In his speeches, the governor also celebrated Macau’s ability to coexist with China ‘despite such profound ideological differences’.Footnote ¹³⁰ During this period of the Cold War, Macau was thus advocated as a model of politico-ideological tolerance that should serve as an example to the world. The good neighbourhood policy was also frequently singled out as being a major contributor to progress in Macau, and it was occasionally pointed out that the PRC also held such a policy towards the territory.Footnote ¹³¹ In fact, development only resumed with China’s blessing; the CCP envoy in 1968 had stated that China encouraged investments in developmental projects in Macau and urged the population to collaborate.Footnote ¹³²

Development, coexistence, short documentaries, and TV news

There was little colonial film production in Macau, including in the 1960s and 1970s. Yet this has to be seen in the context of Portuguese (colonial) filmmaking, which was meagre and sporadic due to the lack of capital as Portugal was then a poor country with a small film industry and which oversaw an empire that was also underdeveloped. Colonial cinema’s scarcity was also due to the colonies’ distance and their lack of filmic infrastructure.Footnote ¹³³ This was despite the regime regarding film as one of the ‘most efficient means for Portugal to create a positive image of its empire’.Footnote ¹³⁴ Filmmaking was usually carried out through a combination of both private and governmental efforts and consisted mostly of short documentaries that aimed to celebrate achievements in the overseas territories.Footnote ¹³⁵ Also, a strict censorship was in place, which further constrained what could be filmed and shown; anything potentially detrimental to the image of the regime (or the colonies) was censored.Footnote ¹³⁶ There was more interest in filming ‘Portuguese Africa’, but even there production was rather scarce, although it increased with the beginning of the colonial wars in 1961.Footnote ¹³⁷ This scarce production differed from other colonial cinemas, which enjoyed more funds and had governmental institutions that specialised in filmmaking, such as the British who made films for or about the colonies.Footnote ¹³⁸

Despite this scarcity, a number of short propagandistic documentaries were shot in Macau in the 1960s and 1970s. They generally aimed, in conformity with official discourse, to promote an image of Macau as a land of progress, modernisation, industrialisation, and Luso-Chinese harmony, although some other aspects were also tackled. Narratives centring on development became more pervasive in the post-123 period. Moreover, more emphasis was placed on development having as its basis Luso-Chinese collaboration, and the films gave more predominance to specific Chinese enterprises or figures rather than presenting an anonymous mass of hard-working Chinese. Additionally, some of the films increasingly hinted at Macau being a site of a good neighbourhood policy towards China (and vice-versa). Other than aspiring to whitewash the impression left by the riots and rehabilitate the Portuguese administration, portraying it as efficient, these documentaries attempted to offset reports about the hostility of Macau’s Chinese population and of China towards the Portuguese and emphasised Luso-Chinese partnership instead. On another level, all these productions focusing on development must have also generally aspired to function as a response to foreign films set in Macau and the aforementioned long-held discourse that depicted it as underdeveloped or an unproductive ‘sinful’ city. Many Western films about Macau depicted it as poor and backward. For example, in Adventure on Happiness Street (Jacques Tourneur, 1960), an episode of The Barbara Stanwick Show, one of the protagonists, an American doctor, described Macau as a ‘miserable peninsula filled with poverty and squalor unequal in the face of the earth … slums crawling with rats and mice, bed bugs and lice’. Hollywood films also depicted a lawless, ‘wicked’ city peopled by criminals involved in dangerous and ruthless smuggling.Footnote ¹³⁹

Most of the locally shot documentaries were directed by the metropolitan filmmaker Miguel Spiguel who, since the 1950s, had made a number of films in Macau in collaboration with the local authorities. Spiguel, a freelancer, who mostly worked in the short documentary genre, can be considered a sort of ‘director of the empire’, having filmed in various overseas provinces.Footnote ¹⁴⁰ He had already tackled development and interethnic harmony to some degree before the incident. In his Macau (1960), the voice-over and imagery both celebrated progress and modernity, while referring to ‘the building fever [occurring] in the metropole and the rest of the overseas provinces’, hence mostly suggesting a Portuguese-led development.Footnote ¹⁴¹ There were shots of towers under construction and modern building such as schools (the voice-over stated that Macau was ‘one of the most cultured provinces of Portugal’) and hospitals (‘with a denser network than the metropole’). The documentary also asserted Macau’s modernity, for example using several close-up shots of the neon signage of commercial establishments at night. And, as the voice-over indicated, neon reached Macau before the metropole. Overall, Macau was presented not as a backwater but as a modern city, hinting that in some respects it was even more modern than the metropole. As was typical of Spiguel’s documentaries, Macau juxtaposed Eastern and Western elements to show the harmony between East and West despite their differences.

In 1961, the Portuguese filmmaker Augusto Cabrita made a documentary for the Portuguese state broadcaster Rádio e Televisão de Portugal (RTP) entitled Macau, Ethnographic and Touristic Aspects (Macau, Aspectos Etnograficos e Turísticos). The copies at the RTP archives lack sound and are not fully edited, but according to its records, a copy was broadcast in January 1961. Viewers mainly discovered Macau through the eyes of a Portuguese tourist. They were shown exotic, picturesque, or ethnographic aspects such as a funeral, the floating town and fishermen, and the Chinese quarters and its bustling street life. It also focused on education, including Chinese children learning Portuguese, and there was a series of scenes of children of different ethnicities playing together, with close-ups of Eurasian children, which stressed interracial bonding (a major theme since the 1950s due to Luso-tropicalism). But there was not much about development per se, the only sign being a building’s construction.

In 1964, Spiguel directed four short documentaries for RTP: Realizations and Projects of Macau (Realizações e Projectos de Macau), Industrial Macau (Macau Industrial), Touristic Macau (Macau Turístico), and Typical Macau (Macau Típico). The two first documentaries mainly focused on development, while the latter two dwelled on more varied aspects, including ethnographic or ‘exotic’ facets of Macau. In Realizations and Projects of Macau, Spiguel showed new projects being carried out, while emphasising the work of the Bureau of Development and Urbanism and its Portuguese/Eurasian technicians, with the voice-over noting that the territory ‘is not sleepy’ and that Portuguese technicians ‘are tirelessly planning new works’. Although there was less stress on this, the voice-over informed viewers that private entities also contributed to Macau’s development. The camera shot STDM’s main development projects such as a model of the much-awaited luxury hotel-casino complex, the Hotel Lisboa, and the new pier under construction for the hydrofoils that were to offer a rapid service to and from Hong Kong. There were also close-ups of Stanley Ho with a Portuguese official from the bureau visiting the pier, suggesting the idea of Luso-Chinese and government-private partnership in Macau’s development. However, neither Ho nor his company were mentioned by name. Furthermore, although Chinese workers were shown constructing the isthmus linking the two islands and opening roads, theirs was mainly a menial position. Overall, the voice-over and imagery placed greater value on Portuguese contributions and leadership, for instance stating that ‘in the governor’s palace, there are those working hard with eyes set on the future so that this piece of Portugal maintains European civilization’, which betrayed a Eurocentric and colonial superior attitude.

Industrial Macau was meant to be an ode to Macau’s industriousness, its (Chinese) people, and its development. The voice-over lauded that ‘Macau is a land of extraordinary activity that inspires admiration thanks to the constant laboriousness of its people’. It also indicated that there were about 400 factories, which ‘is very impressive for such a small place’, and that the work carried out was of high quality and the volume of exports had increased. The film documented production in various factories showing ‘skillful’ Chinese workers concentrated on their tasks, working in an organised, disciplined, rapid, and precise manner. This also served to contradict both the backwater and ‘vice city’ imagery, as well as the lack of opportunities and precarious working conditions the working-class Chinese population had long complained about. However, these factories were not specified to be led by Chinese entrepreneurs, and the focus was mainly on a mass of hard-working Chinese in subaltern positions. Nevertheless, the voice-over and scenes credited their ‘great contribution to the development of this Portuguese overseas province’.

In Touristic Macau, tourism was highlighted as one of the most important industries, in conformity with the way it was presented in the press and official discourse. This was one of the few films to refer to gambling and to film inside a casino, although not at length, despite it being the main pillar of the tourism industry (a point which was not mentioned). Rather, the voice-over gave prominence to the gambling revenue going to social assistance and reassured viewers that the Macau gambler acted cautiously while gambling. This was to counter the idea that gamblers gambled away all their earnings and were then condemned to a miserable life, which was a criticism often directed at Macau. These points had been made in official discourse in order to whitewash gambling. For instance, in an interview, Macau’s deputy at the National Assembly in Lisbon, Alberto Pacheco Jorge, had stressed that gambling was only for people of means, and the poor were not encouraged to gamble.Footnote ¹⁴² The film also dwelled on exotic aspects and highlighted Portuguese sovereignty with images of the flag, official buildings, and statues of Portuguese heroes. Nevertheless, it also alluded to coexistence with China, referring to the Barrier Gate (the border with the PRC) as ‘always open’.

In Typical Macau, the voice-over affirmed that the filmmakers would ‘purposefully forget that Macau is an ultra-modern, cosmopolitan, and monumental city’ in order to privilege typical and exotic aspects (unrelated to development). Despite such an affirmation, the voice-over nevertheless repeated these qualities of Macau at various intervals. The documentary focused on the picturesque floating town and the labour of fishermen, and the dynamism and colourfulness of the Chinese quarter and its many trades, which reinforced the idea that Macau was a place that engaged in honest work (rather than vice) but also provided very picturesque scenes. It also filmed various Chinese temples, presenting the idea of Macau as a tolerant site of coexistence in terms of religion. But Spiguel mainly pursued his interests in the exotic aspects of Macau, showing a funerary procession, martial arts, and lion and sword dances. This he could do after emphasising in the voice-over its modernity, which would please the state-funded broadcaster that hired him and both the central and local governments. Nevertheless, Macau’s exoticism would be of interest to metropolitan and foreign viewers and within that format some propagandistic messages could be inserted, making the documentary less obviously propaganda and hence more effective in terms of message.

After a hiatus between 1964 and 1970, which was probably due to the chaotic situation in Macau until the end of the sixties, with development only resuming then, there were a number of short documentaries made in the 1970s by Spiguel and other filmmakers. None of them (directly) addressed the riots.Footnote ¹⁴³ However, as will be discussed, one documentary (Macau 70) did shoot the public display of Maoist posters and slogans, which were a legacy of the incident, and euphemistically referred to the riots as ‘the friction’ in a commentary prior to the screening of the film on TV. Moreover, the 123 Incident was referred to more directly in the director’s statements to the press. This documentary seems to largely have been a counter-response to a French short TV documentary that was broadcast on French national TV in 1969 and that commented on the 123 riots. Furthermore, the post-123 Portuguese productions were informed by the incident and the discourse that emerged and was solidified in its wake. As mentioned, in the post-123 period, promoting Macau as a land of development brought about by Luso-Chinese partnership and coexistence, and which upheld a good neighbourhood policy towards China, became even more imperative and was further amplified.

A large part of Macau’s industrial development concerned the textile industry. With the restrictions imposed on the exportation of cotton textile products in Hong Kong in 1962 by the EEC, some Hong Kong-based companies relocated to Macau, where there was a permissive legal framework, and lower wages and taxes.Footnote ¹⁴⁴ Macau Industries/aka Macau Knitters (Spiguel, 1970) focused on such an enterprise which had been founded by the Hong Kong-Chinese entrepreneur Billy Chao (Chao Kuang-Piu) in 1964. Chao had probably sponsored this documentary, but Spiguel likely strove for it to function as an advertisement for both Chao’s company and the Portuguese’s administration encouragement and support for Macau’s industrialisation and modernisation, as he worked closely with the local authorities and knew the kinds of messages they wished to transmit. In a letter Spiguel sent to the governor in 1959, he wrote that he was well aware of the local administration’s concerns and that his productions could be adjusted according to the governor’s suggestions.Footnote ¹⁴⁵ This was important in order for him to get some form of sponsorship and also for the films to be exhibited. In any case, Chao’s enterprise was given prominence and was often praised in the press or by the governor for its contribution to the boom in the textile industry.Footnote ¹⁴⁶ But the film’s sole focus on a Chinese business, which had not happened before, further stressed Luso-Chinese collaboration in what the voice-over called ‘Macau’s industrial revolution’, brought about by ‘a conjugation between the laborious local labour force and Chinese and Portuguese initiatives’. Hence, the documentary credited Chinese efforts, vision, agency, and capital, and Portuguese government policies.

With the relocation of Hong Kong companies to Macau, it became known as the workshop of Hong Kong.Footnote ¹⁴⁷ The Guardian went as far as stating that, while Macau had politically become a dependency of China, ‘economically, it is a colony of a colony, an appendage of Hong Kong’.Footnote ¹⁴⁸ But rather than presenting Macau as such, the documentary depicted it as a growing economic powerhouse linked to the rest of the world and highlighted Chinese agency. Differing from the previous films, it showed Chinese in positions of power, focusing on the sophisticated and busy Chinese managerial staff rather than the humble workers of previous productions. It furthermore featured shots of the modern installations of its Macau office and factory—the press and official discourse frequently celebrated the modernisation of industryFootnote ¹⁴⁹ —and its other dependent offices in various cities, indicating its international stature. In fact, the voice-over celebrated that the company was among the biggest in the world. There was also an extended close-up shot of boxes with ‘made in Macau’ tags. During this period, the Macau Portuguese press had frequently celebrated that ‘made in Macau’ was getting to be recognised as products of good quality, which gave the territory a positive image, and that the goods were produced for diversified, sophisticated, and exigent markets such as West Germany.Footnote ¹⁵⁰ There were shots of models in stylish clothes designed by the company. Hence, instead of the backward workshop of Hong Kong, as Macau had been referred to in the international press, it was characterised here, as it had been in the local press, as a dynamic ‘centre of fashion’.Footnote ¹⁵¹ The film also incorporated the notion of ‘conquering the future’, pointing out that Macau people were able to adapt to the new circumstances and were ready for the year 2000. Interestingly, that is practically the time the handover took place (20 December 1999).

Macau of Today (Macau de Hoje) (Spiguel, 1971), as the name indicates, focused on the mostly modern aspects of Macau, especially on STDM’s innovations. The documentary opened with shots of the fast and modern hydrofoils arriving in Macau, again an STDM contribution. It further illustrated the building boom, with close-ups of the various constructions, indicating a new ‘confidence’.Footnote ¹⁵² There were a series of shots of the modern, upscale, and much-awaited Hotel Lisboa, which had just been inaugurated in 1970 as part of STDM’s contract. It was the ‘symbol of a new prosperity following the 1966 riots’.Footnote ¹⁵³

Furthermore, there were various shots of the construction work carried out on the bridge between Macau’s mainland and Taipa island which was being built then. This was Governor Nobre de Carvalho’s pet project (and would be given his name),Footnote ¹⁵⁴ and constituted another prominent symbol of progress but also of Luso-Chinese partnership and even the good neighbourhood policy. The construction of the bridge was much acclaimed in the Portuguese press. According to the voice-over, it announced ‘the commercial and industrial development of the islands’ (whose underdevelopment officials had previously regretted) and was to be a boost to Macau’s economy. The press and governor’s speeches stated that it would be able to resolve ‘serious problems resulting from the lack of space and Macau having the highest density in the world’.Footnote ¹⁵⁵ Hence, in official discourse, the (previously neglected) islands promised to provide space for industrial, commercial, habitational, and touristic development, including direct communications with outside, as there were plans to build a deep-water port on Coloane island as the present one was unsuitable for bigger ships.Footnote ¹⁵⁶ This, it was argued, would bring prosperity for all. Significantly, it also symbolised a ‘bridge’ between the two communities, as it was a Luso-Chinese collaboration, being initiated by the Portuguese and having a Portuguese engineer, while the contractor was Ho Yin, the ‘red capitalist’ who was also the mediator or ‘bridge’ between Portugal and China. The governor described him as ‘a symbol of the good neighbourhood policy and the precious intercommunity collaboration’.Footnote ¹⁵⁷ Two companies had tendered for the construction of the bridge in 1969 when the project was announced. However, it was China’s representative and prominent Macau businessman Ho Yin who got the project, then the most expensive one undertaken by the governmentFootnote ¹⁵⁸ despite his tender being more costly than the other company.Footnote ¹⁵⁹ In a letter to the South China Morning Post’s (SCMP) editor, a reader praised the wise choice, stating that ‘the acceptance of a higher tender for the construction of the bridge … shows the presence of tact and foresight which … was found lacking a few years ago when crass stupidity created a near catastrophe’.Footnote ¹⁶⁰

At the first piling ceremony in 1970, which was presided by the governor, Ho declared that all the bridge’s materials came from China and underscored that ‘we are receiving all the necessary help from our country’. The governor, for his part, stated that he was very glad about the assistance provided by the neighbouring country.Footnote ¹⁶¹ Thus, the bridge became the embodiment of a mutually ‘good neighbourhood policy’, representing furthermore China’s blessing and expectations for Macau’s development. In his speech at the inauguration of the bridge in October 1974, months after the Carnation Revolution, the governor celebrated that it would ‘always be a symbol of Luso-Chinese friendship [and that it was] a construction that much honored Portuguese engineering and the Chinese technicians and workers who built it’.Footnote ¹⁶² The bridge signified not only a major landmark of Macau’s recovery, initiative, and new prosperity but also one that involved Chinese businessmen and connections with China, much like the Hotel Lisboa. STDM also had connections with China and was blacklisted by the USA because of this.Footnote ¹⁶³ SCMP’s reports observed that thanks to China’s benign tolerance towards Macau it was ‘thriving as never before’.Footnote ¹⁶⁴ In 1973, the governor cheered that ‘relations with China [are] very good and that Macau will continue to expand’.Footnote ¹⁶⁵ In 1974, at a ceremony in which Ho Yin paid tribute to him, the governor celebrated that ‘there was precious cooperation between the two communities … [and that] this was partly due to the good neighbourhood policy’.Footnote ¹⁶⁶

The camera also lingered on other development projects such as the isthmus that connected Taipa and Coloane islands, which had been inaugurated in 1968 and was also a prestige project, and other landfills. Tourism was another aspect that was tackled. There were shots of the Macau Grand Prix, which was the city’s most prestigious tourist event and had been referred to in publications as one of the best kinds of positive propaganda for Macau.Footnote ¹⁶⁷ Holding the event indicated Macau’s return to normalcy. As in the other documentaries, there were, however, only very brief references to casinos, gambling being scantily documented due to its stigma as a ‘sinful’ non-productive activity.

The other documentaries made during this period are Macau 70 (Adriano Nazareth, 1971), made for RTP, and Macau: Portugal in China (Macau: Portugal na China) (António Lopes Ribeiro, 1974). The latter was the last film made just before the regime’s demise, and it premiered in Lisbon on 5 July 1974, shortly after the Carnation Revolution.Footnote ¹⁶⁸ Nazareth was an RTP filmmaker and Ribeiro a celebrated director close to the Estado NovoFootnote ¹⁶⁹ who can be considered the ‘director of the regime’. In fact, he directed the only two feature-length fiction films directly produced by the regime.

Nazareth’s documentary was the only one that alluded to the riots, likely in response to the French TV piece that had discussed them on the French national tv news magazine program, Point-Contrepoint, in January 1969. In an article, he revealed that he made Macau 70 to see what Macau was like after the ‘big 1967 incidents’.Footnote ¹⁷⁰ He further stated that with this film he sought to show that despite racial, religious, and political differences, Portuguese and Chinese people in Macau collaborated in a fraternal way to achieve its continuous progress.Footnote ¹⁷¹ These points were also made in the voice-over. The documentary generally lauded Macau’s harmonious coexistence, the voice-over pointing out that it was where Portugal’s ‘most revered poet, sixteenth-century Luís de Camões fell in love with the beautiful Chinese maiden Dinamene’. Dutra Faria introduced the documentary before it was shown on Portuguese TV. He suggested that the celebration of Camões for the woman he had most loved represented the love of Portuguese men for Chinese women, and the harmonious coexistence between Portuguese and Chinese in Macau.Footnote ¹⁷² Hence, the documentary stressed Luso-tropicalist interracial love and Luso-Chinese partnership. The voice-over stated Camões’ passion had laid the seeds for intercultural, racial, and religious coexistence, and there were subsequent shots of temples and churches in neighbourly harmony.

Most strikingly, the narration and scenes also underscored political coexistence and Macau’s good neighbourhood policy. There were various shots of Mao Zedong posters pasted on buildings or walls and close-ups of Maoist slogans (see Figures 1 and 2), as well as of the Portuguese and PRC flags facing each other, with the voice-over lauding the fact that ‘the flags stand next to each other without any hostility’. Hence, Maoist and PRC symbols, which after the incident had been perceived as signs of a weak or non-existent Portuguese sovereignty in the foreign media, including in the French TV piece, were here transformed into proof of a sagacious Portuguese tolerance and capacity for harmonious politico-ideological coexistence.

Figure 1. The Macau Chinese Education Association building with a portrait of Mao Zedong and placards stating: ‘Long life to the great leader Chairman Mao’ in the documentary Macau 70.

Figure 2. Close-up of a blackboard drawing of Mao Zedong and the masses below raising the Little Red Book, with a slogan stating ‘Chairman Mao carries the revolution to the end’, in a street of Macau in Macau 70.

As mentioned, such bold content was probably a response to the French short documentary about Macau, which directly discussed the 123 Incident and reported on the number of Chinese casualties (mistakenly mentioning six instead of eight). The documentary focused on the predominance of Maoism and Chinese power in the territory, shooting images and busts of Mao Zedong, as well as slogans, and PLA gunboats near Macau’s shore to which, according to the voice-over, local fishermen had to provide half of their catch, while also commenting on ‘the strange cohabitation between the Portuguese cross and Beijing’s red star’. Rather than progress, it showed Portuguese decadence (filming dilapidated historical buildings and poor sections of the city), further pointing out that Macau only survived through gambling and gold smuggling, and that the PRC even received five per cent of the casino profits.Footnote ¹⁷³

Besides the Maoist symbols, Macau 70 featured the obligatory signs of Portuguese sovereignty, present in all documentaries, such as panoramic shots of the Portuguese flag overlooking Macau, close-ups of governmental buildings, or of former governors’ portraits, reaffirming that, unlike what had been suggested in the French documentary or the international press reports, Macau was still firmly Portuguese after the incident. While filming the border gate, the voice-over indicated that Portuguese sovereignty perdured for more than 400 years; Macau’s longevity was often noted and served to solidify Portuguese legitimacy. The voice-over highlighted that this was thanks to the Portuguese being good neighbours and being able to coexist with all kinds of people, no matter the differences. In his commentary prior to the film, Faria pointed out that Macau was like a laborious ant (the emphasis being on honest and industrious work rather than vice) that did not affront or offend a gigantic China, described as an elephant, hence again stressing the good neighbourhood policy.Footnote ¹⁷⁴ He explained that this was the reason why, when the Soviet Union asked about China’s motivation for not demanding the devolution of Macau and Hong Kong, China responded that it would only do so when the Soviets returned the territories taken by Tsarist Russia.Footnote ¹⁷⁵ By this, he implied that they were the true imperialists and the Portuguese and Chinese shared friendlier relations. Following the Sino-Soviet split in 1962, the Soviet Union frequently censored China for not retaking Hong Kong and Macau and questioned its credibility as a leading anti-imperialist power.Footnote ¹⁷⁶ Furthermore, as in his previous articles, Faria sought to explain the incident by referring that, due to Macau being next door to a China undergoing a profound revolution, it was natural that disturbances occurred. But he also pointed out that Macau had in fact contributed to Chinese revolutions by giving asylum to Chinese revolutionaries such as Sun Yat-Sen.Footnote ¹⁷⁷

Additionally, the voice-over praised the ‘extraordinary’ level of progress, which it attributed to ‘the care and attention of the government’. In his commentary, Faria further celebrated that Macau trusted in the future and highlighted that the Chinese and Portuguese needed each other in order to contribute to its progress.Footnote ¹⁷⁸ There was a focus on industrialisation, with images of factories and mention of the superior quality of goods ‘made in Macau’. The documentary also filmed the islands’ industrialisation and modernisation, and Macau’s urbanisation and construction boom, with shots of models of the Hotel Lisboa and the bridge, the new symbols of its modernity and Luso-(PRC) Chinese cooperation. It also pinpointed the good network of schools, hospitals, and assistance provided by the government, which served to counteract the complaints of Macau’s Chinese population that they received no support from the authorities.Footnote ¹⁷⁹ There was only a brief reference to gambling, but this time the camera ventured inside the casinos. Again, gambling was described as inevitable and beneficial to progress due to the contributions made to Macau’s economy.

Macau: Portugal in China was sponsored by the newly established Banco Comercial de Macau, which had just been founded that same year (1974), as pointed out in the credits and voice-over. The voice-over praised the liberalisation of banking, stating that Macau’s growing commercial development required more banks. On the whole, this documentary put the spotlight on many of the same aspects as the previous ones and its tone was also ‘nationalistic and laudatory’, which was typical of films made before the Carnation Revolution.Footnote ¹⁸⁰ Similar to the other productions, it highlighted a new modernity, including a modern tourism industry, with shots of the luxurious Hotel Lisboa where the viewer was taken on a more extensive tour, and the fast hydrofoils arriving in Macau. It also showcased the construction of a new power station, which illustrated the government's efforts to stimulate Macau’s development, thus announcing a brighter future. A deficient electrical supply had been a major barrier to Macau’s urbanisation and industrialisation, being much criticised by Chinese businessmen and the population,Footnote ¹⁸¹ so here were signs that this situation would be resolved. Despite the nationalistic tone, emphasis was again placed on Luso-Chinese partnership. There were extensive shots of the bridge, foregrounding Ho Yin—the narration introducing him and noting that this was his concession—and the Portuguese engineer animatedly discussing it, which captured the notion of Luso-Chinese collaboration. When introducing the Hotel Lisboa, the voice-over also indicated that it was managed by STDM (run by Stanley Ho, a reference not made in the pre-123 documentaries). The voice-over further praised Luso-Chinese harmonious coexistence, pointing out that ‘the good understanding between a population of 300,000 Chinese and 4,000 Portuguese jumps to the eyes of everyone’, and that the Chinese district saw the constant mingling of Chinese and Portuguese. However, it is striking how none of this Luso-Chinese interaction was shown, with not even a shot of a Portuguese person walking along the streets. Like the other documentaries, social development was stressed, such as housing being built for the poor and the provision of healthcare, with the voice-over pointing out that one fifth of revenue was reserved for this.

There were the usual symbols of Portuguese sovereignty (as underlined in the title of the documentary), with, again, various close-ups of the Portuguese flag. This production also stressed education (as in most documentaries) with the filming of various schools, the voice-over stating that Chinese students learnt Portuguese in several of them, suggesting a closeness between the two communities. In reality, however, as the international press noted, ‘few Chinese here know Portuguese, which is not even taught in their schools’.Footnote ¹⁸² The number of schools, student population, and high level of education were sources of pride, especially compared with other overseas provinces, and even the metropole, where there were high levels of illiteracy.Footnote ¹⁸³ As such, Macau was sometimes called a ‘city of education’. Unlike in the other documentaries, gambling was referred to more openly, and even celebrated. The voice-over feted the casinos as ‘fabulous’, and the viewer got to peek into one. This perhaps indicated that gambling caused less anxiety at this point.

Thus, although the pre-123 films had already stressed development, some productions nevertheless had also exclusively focused on other themes, especially ‘exotic’ aspects. After the riots, the documentaries all addressed development and further pointed to Luso-Chinese collaboration as being at its base, despite also continuing to show a fascination with Chinese aspects and street life. Emphasis on Luso-Chinese partnership was especially the case in the documentary about Chao’s enterprise that highlighted the Chinese management’s agency and leadership combined with Portuguese policies, and in the predominance given to the bridge with shots introducing Ho Yin and his collaboration with the Portuguese engineer in Macau: Portugal in China. In the earlier films, Chinese, despite being praised for being hard-working and for their contribution to development, appeared as an anonymous mass doing menial jobs and possessing less agency. Nazareth’s film went the furthest by highlighting and praising the Portuguese administration’s coexistence with China and local Maoism. Credit was given to an alleged Portuguese tolerance, extending Freyre’s notion of Portuguese plasticity to the realm of ideology. In fact, his documentary was likely an answer to the previously mentioned French news piece. In Nazareth’s TV documentary, filmed approximately one year later, what had been described as ‘a strange cohabitation’ in the French TV production was instead celebrated as a harmonious coexistence. The films by Spiguel and Ribeiro were less bold. Due to Spiguel’s dependence on patrons, he could not risk alienating anyone, so his films did not allude to the riots or Maoism. As for Ribeiro, he was ‘the director of the regime’ and was used to a politically conservative type of filming in which the main focus was glorifying the regime. Nevertheless, their films gave more emphasis to Luso-Chinese partnership than previous ones.

Although this article addresses the period before the Carnation Revolution, it is worth mentioning one of Spiguel’s last documentaries about Macau, A Pearl Called Macau (Uma Peróla Chamada Macau), which was shot in October 1974 on the occasion of the bridge’s inauguration and at a time when Portugal was undergoing democratisation. Despite the usual fascination with exotic aspects present in all his films, the main focus was again on development, especially the bridge and its representation of progress brought about by Luso-Chinese partnership. But, compared with the previously discussed post-123 films, this film further emphasised Luso-Chinese–led development and prominent Chinese figures. The foregrounding of such partnership between colonizers and colonized is typical of late colonial cinema and was therefore even more suitable in the post-revolutionary period when Portugal was undergoing the decolonisation of its empire.

In terms of development, the main focus was on the bridge, followed by the STDM innovations, especially the Hotel Lisboa. Its upscale and modern installations, refined restaurants, and casino were extensively shot. More significantly, there were continuous shots and close-ups of Stanley Ho going about his business, while the voice-over proclaimed that ‘the progress of Macau owes much to [his] grand investments’ and celebrated STDM’s contribution to touristic development. Besides STDM, the camera filmed Billy Chao’s Macau Knitters, showing Chinese workers at its factories, while the voice-over feted it as being one of the world’s biggest knitwear producers.

A substantial part of the film centred on the bridge’s grand inauguration. Ho Yin figured prominently, often partnered with the governor, the two standing close together or talking, which gave the impression that Portugal and China’s representatives co-jointly ruled Macau. In fact, Chinese personalities were given about as much camera time as Portuguese ones. Another figure who was shot extensively was Roque Choi, Ho Yin’s secretary and the manager of his various business interests who acted as a true ‘bridge’ between the Portuguese administration and Macau’s Chinese community as he mastered both languages (and cultures) and also worked as a translator/interpreter.

The documentary also highlighted a Luso-tropical Macau. The two communities were shot extensively intermingling at an official reception and at a dinner offered by the Chinese community where Portuguese were filmed eating Chinese food with chopsticks (showing a certain acculturation). The voice-over transmitted this Luso-tropical message by stating that ‘Macau is a meeting-point for all races’. Additionally, there were shots of the Luso-Asian Macanese community, for instance of a family having a Chinese meal at the Hotel Lisboa.

Expectedly, the tone was much less nationalistic than in previous documentaries, with less focus on Macau’s ‘Portugueseness’ (with only a single shot of the Portuguese flag). Rather, it showcased the new Portuguese interterritorial coordination minister’s visit and his study of how Macau could integrate in the new Portugal. The documentary joyfully ended with night shots of fireworks over the illuminated bridge and the promise of an even brighter future (the voice-over had declared that Portuguese and Chinese had their eyes set on the future and that the bridge would stir the islands’ development).

Coverage about Macau on Portuguese national TV news, which began in the late 1950s, followed a similar pattern. This could be expected as most news stories were made by the aforementioned metropolitan directors when they visited Macau to shoot their documentaries, some of which were also made for TV. The same discourse informed them. Officials were also occasionally interviewed when they returned to Lisbon from Macau. However, most of the still existent TV news coverage, which is held at the RTP archives, lacks sound.

In the pre-123 period, none of the TV news items were about development per se. Many emphasised Luso-tropicalism, showing different ethnic groups taking part in activities together, in church, or in schools, while also showcasing the conviviality between the Chinese elite and the Portuguese authorities, hence emphasising interethnic harmony. One film centred on tourism, specifically the Grand Prix.Footnote ¹⁸⁴ It intercut car-racing scenes with picturesque vistas of Macau unrelated to development.

Like documentary filmmaking, there was a hiatus between 1966 and 1969, with pieces shot in Macau only resuming in 1970. In the 1970s, although various topics were tackled—for instance, nationalistic ones with the governor reviewing troops or festivities celebrating Portuguese heroes such as CamõesFootnote ¹⁸⁵—news items about development became frequent. They discussed the ‘extraordinary’ boom in roughly the same terms as in the press and documentary film, focusing on tourism, construction, the textile industry, and STDM innovations, while several pieces covered the bridge. There was also more emphasis on Chinese personalities, highlighting their contribution to Macau’s development, and further showing them in a leadership position, including in the government. One piece also mentioned the good neighbourhood policy with China as being a major factor contributing to Macau’s development.

One 1970 news item featured an interview with Sacramento Monteiro on his return to Lisbon after his trip to Macau and Timor. As in his aforementioned press interview, Monteiro declared, ‘In Macau I observed the development boom of the last years and the enthusiasm with which the hard-working community devotes itself to it.’Footnote ¹⁸⁶ In another piece that reviewed the year of 1971 across the nation, the territory was thus mentioned: ‘Macau today occupies a privileged space in the industrial sector, its name being heard everywhere in the world, honouring Portugal.’Footnote ¹⁸⁷ Pieces also addressed tourism, such as a 1971 interview with CIT’s director, Correia Marques, in which he discussed Macau’s ‘extraordinary touristic development’, which ‘shows the world that Macau is in reality a peaceful place’ (and not beset by riots and interethnic animosity).Footnote ¹⁸⁸ He also praised that the bridge would be a major contribution to the touristic boom as it would open the islands for that purpose.

There was more stress on Luso-Chinese partnership and specific Chinese personalities and their contribution. In a 1970 piece about a visit by metropolitan students to Macau, Roque Choi was shown hosting them and making a speech at a dinner in the Grand Hotel.Footnote ¹⁸⁹ Numerous shots showed them visiting the most prestigious development projects: the Hotel Lisboa, the bridge, and also the hydrofoil pier, with a medium shot of a sign indicating it belonged to STDM.

A 1971 piece featured an interview by metropolitan journalist Rui Romano with José Montenegro, the economic services director.Footnote ¹⁹⁰ Asked what the reasons were for Macau’s development, Montenegro emphasised ‘a conjugation of efforts by the two communities, which the government has succeeded in consolidating ever more firmly’. He further attributed the ‘spectacular expansion’ to ‘the good neighbourhood policy, which is our main objective and which the governor has successfully attained’. Montenegro also credited the infrastructure that was being built by the government, such as the bridge. A 1974 piece centred on the governor visiting a textile factory (likely belonging to Billy Chao) where he was guided by the Chinese management, thus highlighting Chinese agency in development and the government’s nurturing of it.Footnote ¹⁹¹

A 1974 piece about the bridge again featured an interview by Romano, this time with Edgar Cardoso, the bridge’s Portuguese engineer, and Ho Yin, who was properly introduced (unlike Stanley Ho in the earlier 1964 RTP Spiguel documentary) and shown to be the representative of the Chinese community.Footnote ¹⁹² Through a Macanese interpreter, Romano asked Ho how the Chinese community regarded the bridge’s construction. Ho answered that ‘everyone awaited this construction for a long time and is very happy about it’. Previously, Chinese had hardly been interviewed or given a voice in film or TV. The interpreter, however, was liberal with the translation, echoing the government slogan that the bridge was a dream of the population, destined to spur industrial, commercial, and touristic development. This reflects how deeply embedded this narrative was and how Chinese voices could be edited to fit it better. Anyhow, this piece aimed to convey Chinese satisfaction towards the Portuguese administration’s development planning.

Some films covered governmental meetings, where besides the governor and other Portuguese officials, Chinese individuals, such as Ho Yin, were filmed delivering speeches. This put Chinese figures in positions of leadership, underscoring their participation in government, rather than just as entrepreneurs.

A post-Carnation Revolution piece about the bridge filmed the governor, more cordial and relaxed than before, and Ho Yin visiting its construction together. The governor was shown extensively talking with Chinese technicians and workers, which, as in the case of the post-Revolution documentary, gave even more pre-eminence to Chinese partnership in this new era.Footnote ¹⁹³

Although in the 1960s and especially the 1970s, the Portuguese administration strove to increase Macau’s development, Portuguese propaganda exaggerated the ‘miracle of development’. There were criticisms about Macau’s level of development by British Hong Kong officials in their correspondence and also in the international press. British officials in 1970 opined that ‘the economy of Macau strikingly lacks a substantial base’, calling it a ‘candy floss economy’ based on tourism and gambling and with little industry, suggesting there were insufficient investments.Footnote ¹⁹⁴ They also mentioned that ‘every able person wants to escape to Hong Kong’Footnote ¹⁹⁵ (where there was a much stronger economy, more opportunities for work, and higher salaries). Hong Kong officials also wrote about the local inefficiency in carrying out projects, such as the construction of the causeway and the Hotel Lisboa which took longer to build than expected, the former lasting five years.Footnote ¹⁹⁶ The bridge was depreciatively described as linking ‘nothing to nothing’.Footnote ¹⁹⁷ In 1972, Hong Kong officials stated that although Macau was ‘beginning to stir’, it was still a ‘backwater’.Footnote ¹⁹⁸ A 1972 article downgraded the ‘miracle’ to a ‘boomlet’, ‘based on Macau’s rather seedy sources of income: gambling, tourism with a prurient interest, light manufacturing made profitable by cheap refugee labor’, and that development was just starting to extend to the islands ‘but such is the lethargy of Portuguese colonials that most of the island’s roads are unpaved’.Footnote ¹⁹⁹ Despite the documentaries’ narration celebrating Macau’s development, images sometimes contradicted this. Most factories did not seem particularly modern, although more so compared with the artisanal industry of the past. In Macau 70, the voice-over celebrated the modernisation of Coloane’s fishing industry, but judging from the images, fishing still very much seemed to be based on traditional techniques.

For comparative purposes, it is worth mentioning British official filmmaking in Hong Kong, where the Hong Kong Film Unit (HKFU) had been founded in 1959 and would last until about 1973.Footnote ²⁰⁰ Despite its late establishment, its small scale, and the reluctance of the government to spend too much capital on it, it still produced a total of about 300 films,Footnote ²⁰¹ much more than the very small Macau filmic output, which, furthermore, often received private funding rather than being fully officially sponsored. The HKFU mostly produced short films about local policy priorities, but it also made newsreels and longer features.Footnote ²⁰² Differing from the Macau case, the 1967 Hong Kong riots were filmed and the footage was briefly used in an episode of the newsreel series Hong Kong Today, which was released after the troubles had subsided in 1968.Footnote ²⁰³ The purpose was to show the police in control and the British administration’s success in restoring order, thus further instilling confidence in it.Footnote ²⁰⁴ Additionally, the British were backed by the local Chinese population and the police were praised for suppressing the riots and Leftist activities, making the confrontation more suitable to be tackled in film. In fact, the successful British suppression of the riots gave them ‘new popularity and legitimacy’ and would lead to social and political reforms.Footnote ²⁰⁵ The rather chaotic Portuguese handling of the situation and the disapproval or hostility they encountered, however, did not allow for such a filmic choice and is revealing of a sort of ‘subaltern’ type of colonialism, as Boaventura de Sousa Santos has characterised Portuguese colonialism.Footnote ²⁰⁶ Portuguese colonialism showed a ‘deficit of colonialism’, being unable to colonise efficiently as well as being dependent on other colonialisms/imperialism such as the British.Footnote ²⁰⁷ In Macau, Portugal was to a very large extent in a subaltern position in relation to China and the local Maoists, unlike Britain in Hong Kong.

The HKFU films were also imbued with the concept of British–Chinese partnership in order to placate anti-colonial sentiment.Footnote ²⁰⁸ As mentioned, the foregrounding of such a partnership was in fact typical of films made during late colonialism, when a colonial power progressively transferred sovereignty to a colony’s peoples.Footnote ²⁰⁹ A purer form of colonial filmmaking in which the colonial power took more predominance and the colonised were shown as subordinate had actually not taken place in the colony as official filmmaking had only begun in the 1960s.Footnote ²¹⁰ In the Macau case, the post-123 films revealed a mixture between this purer form of colonial filmmaking and films more typical of late colonialism which placed more emphasis on partnership—the post-Carnation Revolution A Pearl Called Macau suits the latter category better. However, in late colonialism the colonial power usually receded into the background.Footnote ²¹¹ But this was the case of neither the Macau nor the Hong Kong films, as there was no intention of transferring sovereignty as yet.Footnote ²¹² Even in the film about Chao’s enterprise in the post-123 period, the Portuguese administration, though mostly absent visually, was still praised for its economic policies and governance in the voice-over. Another aspect that distinguished the Macau documentaries from the Hong Kong ones is that what was highlighted after the 123 Incident, especially in Nazareth’s production, was not just a harmonious coexistence and partnership with the local Chinese population but also one with the PRC/local Maoists. This was due to the increased power of China and the Maoists in Macau after the riots, which the international media had critically commented, and it offered a way not only to explain such influence but also to make the best of it for propaganda purposes. Thanks to this good neighbourhood policy—even partnership—with China and what was presented as tolerance for the Maoists, Macau was projected as a unique space during the Cold War.

In terms of screenings and circulation, these short documentaries were shown in Portugal and some in Macau too. Spiguel’s 1964 films were shown that year on Portuguese TV, and in AprilFootnote ²¹³ and May in Macau in various locations such as local cinemas, the Military Club, and the secondary school with the governor’s presence.Footnote ²¹⁴ Nazareth’s film was also shown on Portuguese TV. Some films travelled overseas. Touristic Macau was even selected for the Cannes TV Film Festival that took place in April and May 1964. It was the first time that a Portuguese film participated.Footnote ²¹⁵ Typical Macau had French and English versions,Footnote ²¹⁶ while Macau Knitters had an English and even a Japanese version, indicating that these films were also screened overseas.Footnote ²¹⁷

It is difficult to gauge the films’ impact, as few viewers in Macau and Portugal left their impressions, and there are only a few articles in the press by journalists who mainly followed the government line. Spiguel’s documentary Macau was assessed in the Macau press as being one of the best recent films about the territory and was particularly praised for the way it showed ‘the communion of people of different races and beliefs [and] the profusion of races in the schools’, as well as the level of tolerance.Footnote ²¹⁸ The Macau press also feted Spiguel’s films made for Portuguese TV, calling them magnificent, that their screening on TV had been a great success, and that metropolitan Portuguese viewers much appreciated them.Footnote ²¹⁹ However, metropolitan journalist Cacho was more critical of Spiguel’s films, stating that he had not been able to discover Macau cinematically and that, although his camera filmed people in the streets, Spiguel unfortunately followed official cinema, which limited the imagination and freedom of movement.Footnote ²²⁰ A review of Nazareth’s film in a metropolitan paper called it an ‘excellent documentary’ and noted that it showed ‘progress in all aspects’ as well as ‘pacific coexistence, marked by mutual respect and acceptance of our sovereignty’.Footnote ²²¹ The films’ main political messages were generally grasped and emphasised.

It seems that various audiences were simultaneously targeted. In terms of a metropolitan Portuguese audience, such films aspired to educate spectators about and reinforce positive feelings and identification with the overseas provinces. There was very little knowledge about Macau in the metropole; in fact the metropolitan press had reproached the Portuguese public for imagining the territory (like foreigners) as a centre of sin.Footnote ²²² There was the need to cleanse this image and remind them that it was an intrinsic part of the nation,Footnote ²²³ creating and strengthening affective ties while validating the regime, especially at time of colonial war and growing disenchantment.

International audiences were also targeted, but funds did not always allow films to travel as much as first envisaged, so this seems to have had limited success. Anyhow, when shown, the films were meant to cleanse Macau’s image, showing it as being not only back to normal but booming, and to emphasise that there was no animosity between Portuguese and Chinese, rather that the latter accepted the former’s sovereignty. Furthermore, they sought to showcase that rather than being a backwater, Macau was undergoing a developmental boom, which had as its basis Luso-Chinese cooperation and a good neighbourhood policy, hence presenting the territory as a model to the world in a time of cold war.

As for the Macanese, such films served to reassure them about the Portuguese commitment to Macau and its development after the 123 Incident, which actually saw an exodus of Macanese due to fears regarding its future. In fact, historically, the Macanese had also complained about Macau’s underdevelopment.Footnote ²²⁴

A Chinese audience was also likely targeted. Films, which consisted of a sequence of images and voice-over (with very little dialogue), were shown in different languages as their participation in film festivals and archival records attest, but no evidence could be found that they were shown in Chinese. Nevertheless, it could have been relatively uncomplicated to record a voice-over in Cantonese. The expectation would likely have been that this audience would be able to appreciate the message of Luso-Chinese partnership in Macau’s development, with images of the Chinese community’s leader and representative of China, Ho Yin, and the policy of coexistence. The films and the various issues they tackled would have enabled different audiences with various levels of knowledge and sensitivity to focus on distinct aspects.

Macau and the Portuguese empire during the 1960s and 1970s

It is pertinent to put these narratives and productions as well as the riots in the context of the Portuguese empire. It was important to present as positive an image of Macau as possible, not only for its sake but also in order to redeem the already very negative image of Portugal and its empire, as during the 1960s and 1970s Portugal was increasingly isolated and contested at the UN with the rise of the Asian-African bloc.Footnote ²²⁵ The 1960s saw the occupation of Portuguese India, which sent shock waves across the Portuguese world, and the start of colonial wars in Africa, which received strong international condemnation. Furthermore, the USA put pressure on Portugal to decolonise, especially during Kennedy’s presidency.Footnote ²²⁶ The Kennedy administration gave some support to independent movements in Portuguese Africa,Footnote ²²⁷ but eventually this pressure eased after the rental of bases by the Americans was renewed in the strategically located mid-Atlantic Azores islands, crucial for the ‘control of the North Atlantic and for the effective projection of US military power into Europe and the Middle East’Footnote ²²⁸ during the Cold War. There were also much more pressing concerns such as the Vietnam War, but the US position towards the Portuguese overseas territories remained the same.

China also regularly castigated Portuguese colonialism. It had congratulated India on taking Portuguese IndiaFootnote ²²⁹ and backed independent movements in Portuguese Africa. This included training combatants at the Nanjing Military Academy and in camps in Africa, providing armaments, inviting delegations, and releasing frequent communications of support in the press and radio, as well as denunciating Portuguese imperialism in Africa, namely at the UN as soon as it replaced the Republic of China in 1971.Footnote ²³⁰ In 1960, Radio Beijing had begun broadcasting anti-colonial programmes for Portuguese Africa in Portuguese on a daily basis.Footnote ²³¹ Portugal, for its part, used the fact that Macau upheld a good neighbourhood policy towards China, despite it aiding anti-Portuguese movements in Africa, to further suggest the notion of Macau as a site of tolerance and political coexistence. There was much criticism of Portugal and its wars and of its inability to modernise and effectively govern its territories. In this sense, Macau was advanced as a model of harmonious coexistence as well as a modern and cultured city to give another impression. In fact, among the then Portuguese overseas provinces, Macau could be considered the most advanced and modern.

So, besides responding to local problems in Macau and criticisms that had been specifically directed at it, on another level the press, films, and TV news must have simultaneously striven to ameliorate the overall image of Portugal and its overseas territories, which in the 1960s and 1970s were more deeply marred due to the wars in Africa. The riots were particularly upsetting in light of the rebellions or wars that either had recently occurred or were taking place in the Portuguese overseas territories and a further discouragement in the struggle to keep the empire intact. Therefore, they were described as temporary scuffles, and the accent was instead put on the good neighbouring policy and the long-standing Luso-Chinese friendship and coexistence that, according to Portuguese official discourse, had permitted Macau to overcome the 123 Incident and were the basis of its ‘development miracle’.